


Spring's Equinox

by Riznow



Series: Miraak/Ypsilon [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Dovahkiin, Other, POV Alternating, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 22:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riznow/pseuds/Riznow
Summary: Ypsilon and Miraak are back, and they're on the way home to Ypsilon's old abode. However, upon trying to make preparations for making their home a literal anti-Hermaeus Mora fort, there's a break-in. Guess the Thieves Guild wants their Guildmaster back. It's not even a major heist, but because of the artifacts' Dragon Cult ruin location, Karliah and Brynjolf think it's wise for their boss to tag along.Little did they know that such a tiny quest and a paltry artifact would send them 4,000 years into the past, right on to the doorstep of the Dragon Priests of Alduin's Dragon Cult. Oops.





	1. Chapter 1: Nightly Nervousness

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this took a long time to get it back going. This is a bit of a slow start, with a lot of building up on the anxieties and worries of both Miraak and Ypsilon. This series is likely going to get a bit darker- the stories becoming more and more about the newer struggles that are not as handed on a silver platter just as Alduin's defeat was.
> 
> This is also an effort for me to fix up the super quick pacing and weird writing and lore of the previous part of the series. If my writing in here is weird, btw, it's because I'm working tons of hours now and writing only on the bus! So, that's why. I also don't use beta readers all the time, but if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know. I proofread a few times ahead of time, at least!
> 
> Enjoy!

The song of the oncoming night rang throughout the gorges and canyons of the Reach. Cicadas chirping as they fled from the slowly melting ice, crickets playing their legs like violins, and birds singing and bouncing from branch to branch, tree to tree. Magnus was beginning its descent, moving towards the mountains that stretched out to it like a stony cradle. While the sunset was usually colorful and bright, this time it was different- the sky was alight with vibrant hues; golds, oranges, and reds like that of a watercolor painting. Almost too beautiful to be real… It was like nature had came a bit more to life since winter had passed, the world was now able to begin it’s growth once again. It was a slow transformation, but it made it all the more lovely.

Ypsilon stretched their back a bit as they walked along, taking in a deep breath through their nose. Jeez, they were exhausted, but at least it was a nice walk. Everything felt as if it was polished clean by the spring rain. A fresh start, they thought to themselves, slowly tilting their head to look at their travel partner. They felt that they had grown in winter plenty, but it was just the beginning of something new and exciting. They had a new friend- if they could call him that, and not only that, he was someone exciting and fresh and… Well, someone they felt similarities with. Someone who had a dragon soul like theirs.

It wasn’t something they planned- becoming Dragonborn, regarded as some hero, slaying the big, bad dragon, and saving Nirn. But then again, nothing was ever planned was it? They were just here going with the flow. And for once they were truly happy with where the flow had taken them, they had Miraak now.

They looked over to him, noting that he seemed to be peering around, looking up and along the vast chasms and hills that made up the path. Miraak was calm, so they were too, however the moment he got so distracted he scuffed his boot on a large cobblestone on the road, they almost jumped twice as much as he did. Miraak’s expression was unreadable as per usual, due to his mask, and Ypsilon frowned from behind their mask.

“Shall we stop for the night?” Ypsilon asked him, tilting their head slightly. A stiff breeze rolled through the area, still a bit chilly, and Ypsilon wrapped their arms around themselves. “I think there’s an inn nearby, it’ll beat having to pitch a tent and deal with a campfire.” 

Miraak paused midstep for a moment, as does Ypsilon. They watched his movements, judging his body language. “If you can procure us a room nestled away from any noise, person, or irritation, then yes.” he said, voice low.

Ypsilon nodded slowly. “Hopefully it’ll be to those standards. I’m on the same page as you, too tired to really deal with much.” they responded, continuing up the cobblestone road that started to go up a slight incline. “It’s been quiet out here, we haven’t had too many issues, I guess that’s a relief, eh?”

The hill begins to become level again, and upon the hills just a little bit away sits a humble looking building, with a thin fence surrounding it. Ypsilon lets out a relieved sigh, they felt a bit sore from all the travel, and could happily settle into a bed. Miraak takes his strides slow, keeping just a bit behind them.

“It’s disarming.” Miraak murmured. “Too quiet. You’d think that Hermaeus Mora would’ve been pursuing us when there are no witnesses.”

The dagger of his words stuck them as they kept up walking, the inn coming closer and closer. “Maybe he just gave up.” Ypsilon said, keeping a hopeful tone in their voice. “Maybe he’s tired of us, we’ve foiled him twice, we can keep foiling him again.”

Miraak shook his head. “I doubt it. I think he’s letting me walk out  _ for now _ .” His tone lilts and curls, as if disgusted by the topic. “Slaying Alduin was one thing that would benefit him, no end of the world and end of his steady stream of knowledge. I think we are simply a walking experiment for him currently.”

Ok, now Ypsilon was nervous. They felt their body shiver a bit- be it from the cool night wind or the concern, and stopped in their tracks. They didn’t want anyone from the inn to hear this. “So you think he’s simply watching us and biding his time?” they asked him.

“I’d say so.” Miraak replied. “But not biding his time. Something more will be thrown at us, something that we will deal with that will benefit him. He can get us back to his realm by force and leave not a trace, so it’s unnecessary for him to bide his time. If he truly wanted me back, he would’ve done so already.”

“So he’s not cat and mousing us, he’s trying to wait for something…” Ypsilon scratches at their head a bit. “No, it can’t be, that doesn’t sound right. He sent the Seekers at us that one time- we beat them back, we can do it again and again.” Their voice is rigid.

“That’s not the full extent of his power, that was merely a test.” Miraak responded again, his voice becoming rather curt. He pinches at his mask where it rests upon his nose, an irritated motion. “He’s a threat and will continue to lurk until we find a way to dissuade him or we solve whatever issue he wants us to solve.”

An unpleasant feeling boils in their gut and they shake their head. “We’ll have to see with time, I suppose.” they replied, their tone uncertain, but firm enough to end the conversation. “Until then, we need to get our strength up.”

Ypsilon’s words were met with long silence from Miraak, who simply sniffed and continued to walk along towards the inn. Ypsilon’s arms wrapped tightly around themselves as they continued along after him, the path veered off towards the front porch of the inn, and another cool breeze caused Ypsilon to shiver.

Miraak turned to them before opening the door, a moment a silence between the two before Ypsilon nodded, and he pulled it open. Ypsilon let out a relieved sigh, the warmth from inside the inn was stark against the semi-cold outdoors, and as much as they adored the cold, they wanted a moment to curl up and heat up. 

When both Miraak and Ypsilon slipped through the door and shut it behind them, the innkeeper called out a greeting from where she was sweeping. “Welcome to the Old Hroldan Inn, looking for a grand place to rest, weary travelers?”

“Yeah, whatever room you’ve got we want it.” Ypsilon called back to her, trying to seem warm and not suspicious.

It was nice and quiet, no one but another man sitting at one of the tables and the inkeeper. Just what one would expect from such a far-off inn. The warm, flickering fires immediately soothed Ypsilon’s sore body, and they felt as if a weight had come off of them. Miraak was stiff however, and Ypsilon felt guilt ooze through them, but they tried to shake it off. They couldn’t bring themself to think about it, they knew Mora was a threat but...

Clear your mind, they thought to themselves as they approached the innkeeper with a small satchel of gold- enough to provide for a room, food, and drink. The innkeeper flashed them a somewhat nervous smile, and Ypsilon wished they could flash one back to reassure her. Sometimes being masked made them feel suspicious, but it just had to be that way.

“Alright, let me show you to your room.” she said, her tone kindly. “Any preference as to what food you’d like?” 

Ypsilon looked to Miraak, who gave them a slight tilt of his head and a shrug of his shoulders, and Ypsilon gave the innkeeper a headbow. “Anything that’s fresh in the morning is enough for us.” they responded, politely, trying to give a good, non-threatening impression.

The innkeeper nodded. “I’ll have Leontius get hunting early on then.”

As the innkeeper unlocked the door to the room, Miraak ended up drifting over to the firepit, and Ypsilon watched him gently. They felt worried for him, fearing that he was going to be snatched up at any given moment was horrifying. And selfishly, they felt the same way. They didn’t want him to be taken away, and the simple thought of him getting lost amongst the stacks of Apocrypha drove them to despair. 

In an attempt to shake their thoughts away, they decided it’d be best to not focus on it, as they did with everything. “You said earlier this was grand?” they asked the innkeeper. “Not saying it’s not, it’s a lovely place you have here, but is there something more to it?” 

From experience, Ypsilon knew that people who had businesses out in the middle of nowhere loved to talk about how they acquired it, kooky lil stories, or even history. It was heartwarming even, especially as they likely got few visitors, and even fewer who showed interest. 

And just like expected, the innkeeper’s expression immediately lit up. “Old Hroldan is the stone upon which the Empire was founded, and that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Tiber Septim himself stayed here, in that bed-” she pointed to the room across the way, the door wide open, not locked like the other rooms. “-and it’s the same bed he stayed in before going on to conquer the Reach.”

Ypsilon’s mouth turned into a small frown at the mention of Tiber Septim, however, they were quick to nod enthusiastically, even though they clearly weren’t feeling the same enthusiasm as the innkeeper. 

“The victory of Old Hroldan was one of his first known battles, and the first stepping stone for the young Tiber Septim.” the innkeeper finished up, looking proud of herself.

Ypsilon nodded, her words sinking in. “Interesting…” they hummed out. While they were certainly no fanatic for war and conquering, they tried to focus on how old this place was. “So this place has been standing for that long? All on it’s own?”

“Yes! Been passed down from generation to generation, I make an ok living here, it’s enough to get by, but you don’t want to hear me ramble, I’m sure you and your friend here likely want to get into rest.” she said, stepping back from the door after it unlocked with a click.

“Thank you for sharing and for the room.” Ypsilon purred out, giving her a quick bow and slipping into the room the moment she stepped away. History was certainly... something.

The room wasn’t too large, not too small, consisting of a single bed, a bookshelf with a couple books rested in it, and a padded chair stationed at the foot of the bed. Ypsilon let in a calm sigh, taking a moment to listen to the noise. There was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling from outside the room, and the wind running alongside the building… Miraak would be pleased. The moment they were alone in the room, they felt their exhaustion come down on them like a lead weight. 

Noting that Miraak was still outside, likely deep in thought as he stared at the flames in the lonely, empty inn, they opted to simply settle into bed. He likely wanted some time to himself, as did they, and they sincerely hoped he would retire soon. They gave him a tiny wave, which he nodded in response at, and they slowly shut the door behind them, giving them both some quiet privacy.

They slowly settled down onto the bed, shucking off their shoes, gloves, and cloak, quickly folding it and setting it aside. They tied their mask tighter, unwilling to let anyone see them at all. They wriggled down into the covers, running their fingers over the various furs. However, no matter how hard they tried to settle their mind, it was ablaze. Thoughts ran through their mind while they curled up on themselves, rolling onto their side. 

Miraak’s words rang in their mind. ‘ _ If he truly wanted me back, he would’ve done so already _ ’, Miraak had said. They dug their fingers into the grooves of their mask, thinking on those words over and over and over again. 

They wished their problems would’ve ended with Alduin. It was hard enough and they still felt pain from it. The sting of anxiety from Alduin possibly being Akatosh, or Alduin possibly being still being alive threw them into a tizzy, but then the thought of Mora?

But their mind simply couldn’t drift away from the concept of Miraak being taken. They gulped in a breath of air, releasing it to calm themselves. There was the sound of the door opening, and the click of it being closed, along with bootsteps along the floor. A single gloved hand rested on their shoulder, but Ypsilon kept their eyes shut tight, hardly moving. Miraak let out a low sigh, but they heard the slow movement of him settling into a chair and flipping open a book.

Almost immediately, Ypsilon felt a calm rush over them, relaxing as he moved. His mannerisms, the sound of his robes moving, the clink of the golden armor on armor, and the flip of the pages was nothing more but a lullaby to them. They allowed their mind to drift.  _ Things’ll be ok. _ The two of them made a strong pair and they knew that Miraak wasn’t going to get taken on their watch.  _ Things’ll be ok. _

They were out like a snuffed flame a few moments after.


	2. Chapter 2: Prophetic Nightmares

What a strange place, was all Ypsilon could think as they wandered through a dimly lit corridor. High stone walls were around them, and they slowly ran their hands along the walls as they went. The texture of the wall changed into something more wooden, and they sniffed. It smelled like mildew and rotting paper… 

They blinked. The location they were in was suddenly smoggy, the endless hallway filling with a sickly green smoke. Ypsilon frowned as they slowly realized what this was. They looked at the walls, startled to see that it was now a rotting wooden shelf with rows and rows of nothing but books. 

They stiffened. Their mind felt foggy and a nervous pang pulled upon their gut. They went to turn back the way they came, their breath caught in their throat. As if by magic, the way that they came was somehow blocked by a wall and they pushed their hands against the soggy cobblestones of it. The stones didn't budge, and they felt strain seep into their body as they slowly turned around.

But instead of the hallway in front of them, they were greeted by a flood of inky tentacles and a steady stream of eyes which rushed at them like the torrent of a river. They let out a scream only to find out that they couldn't breathe and then all became blackness. 

No… no there were voices. Specifically ones Ypsilon couldn't understand. They paused to listen a little more and slowly but surely they recognized the language. Dovahzul was going back and forth but they were too tired to attempt to translate the little that they knew of from Miraak.

They blinked slowly, rolling over in the bedding, and rubbed the fog out of their eyes. Miraak was perched on the chair at the foot of the bed, and he was the one doing the talking. The other voice however came from a startlingly large, nearly transparent ghost with a massive battle-axe on his back.

Ypsilon let out a gasp. Oh, not ANOTHER nightmare! They thought rapidly, anxiety flooding them  as they brought their knuckles to their head and hit lightly, trying to force themselves awake.

However, instead of getting the expected blinking and awakening to the real world sequence, Miraak simply gazed over to them and the fuss they were making and said slowly in common to them. "I'm trying to have a conversation."

_ Oh. _ What?! Ypsilon rubbed their eyes again, hands running over the bed covers in order to try and locate their mask. “Oh, well uh. Care to introduce me to… your friend here?” they asked, tying the leather strings back along the back of their head, securing the mask to their face. 

They were unfocused, Miraak’s long, drawn out sigh catching their attention in their early morning scramble. “He thinks we’re the same person.” he muttered. 

Bewildered, Ypsilon frowned, taken aback. “And he thinks that how? Are we not clearly multiple people in his vision?”

The axe-wielding ghost repeated something in Dovahzul to Miraak, who shook his head and quickly shot back another string of phrases. Ypsilon looked back and forth between the two as they spoke, confusion sinking into them, followed up by embarrassment. They can’t believe they started hitting themselves like that, in front of Miraak and a weird ghost, no less, but-

“He thinks we’re both Talos.” Miraak replied to them, shaking his head. “Likely detecting us only via our Dragonborn aspects.”

“Huh… So I guess we are all recognizable in that way. Didn’t think it was identical per person, at least…?” Ypsilon murmured out, thinking hard. “I thought that we’d have different dragon souls.”

“No, we do have different souls. Yours is different than mine, as is mine to yours. At the same time though, your soul is no stranger to mine, and vice versa.”

Wow, that was… oddly sweet in a way, Ypsilon thought to themselves. “We just inherently recognize each other in that sense.”

Miraak nodded, a brief nod, followed up by some Dovahzul back at the ghost, who seemed irritable and turned away from Miraak, arms crossed. “It’s how I recognized you as a Dragonborn effortlessly when we first met.” he responded, voice calm and hopeful- as if looking back on the moment Ypsilon had gotten zapped to the floor by shock magic pleasantly. “With time, you’ll likely do the same for me.”

Ypsilon grinned from behind their mask. “Oh, I’ll have a built in Miraak tracker! That’s fun, honestly. It’s for if I ever lose you in the countryside.” 

“Or in Apocrypha.”

Ypsilon’s mood immediately sunk. Jeez. He was really nervous about that. They wished they could do something to soothe his fears, but when they took in a deep breath to say something, it wasn’t coming out. They let out a sigh and tried to give Miraak a gentler, cheerier voice, hoping it’ll make him feel better. Let their joy rub off on him.

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Anyways, were you able to have a heart-to-heart with this guy? Any ol’ tidbits back from the olden times?”

“As if you weren’t around then, too?” Miraak chuckled, before his voice became solemn. “But, no, not at all.”

From his hands came a ball of glowing golden light, like that of a restoration spell, and he directed the orb of glowing light from his hands and into the air. The ball moved forwards lazily, slowly merging with the ghost. It’s ethereal form began to dwindle, the glow fading from existence, and it’s body wavered, until disappearing with a poof. The golden light faded as well. Ypsilon’s hand went to the mouth of their mask. That must’ve been a spell he’d used during his priest days, assuming he dealt with a lot of the dead.

“There was nothing left in that husk of a once real man.” Miraak muttered, before getting out of his seat, brushing his long, purple robes off.

“I got no information out of him- he wouldn’t even answer the time he was alive at. I suppose sometime around Talos.” he scoffed.

Ypsilon got out of bed, messing with their hair a little before slipping their cloak and hood back on. “Yeah, I suppose even then whatever he would of had to say wouldn’t be too good. He was dressed like a warrior, he likely died in whatever battle the innkeeper lady was speaking on.”

“...You’re not wrong.”

Ypsilon gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, and Miraak slowly relaxed his muscles a bit. “I know you’re a bit stuck in the past, I was the same way when I first came to during current times.” They told him. “You’ll grow more used to it. It’s tough, but living in the present becomes easier.”

Miraak didn’t answer, however, he stiffened back up. He was so tense… The poor thing, Ypsilon thought. They gently grasped his arm and lead him forwards towards the door of their inn room, swinging it open. He eventually got the memo to get moving, and slowly but surely, they were on their way out. 

The inn was still practically empty, only the innkeeper cooking at the fireplace and a black, hooded figure resting in one of the chairs, but nothing too busy. Ypsilon was feeling a bit too warm at this point, the stoked fire was no longer pleasing, it felt like it was heating up their fears and anxieties to a boiling point. They could only imagine the same was happening for Miraak.

Ypsilon approached the innkeeper and gave her a big thumbs up. “Thank you for the great hospitality.” they said, wanting her to hear the smile in their voice. “It was a good place to stay.”

The innkeeper and Ypsilon continued to do business, Ypsilon taking some of the food that the innkeeper offered to them into their pack. Meanwhile, Miraak gazed around, looking up towards the thatch ceiling to attempt to get an idea of what time it was. His mind was wandering, thoughts slow.

He admittedly hadn’t slept well, but he wasn’t about to let Ypsilon on that secret. As much as he thought he trusted them, he wasn’t sure. The possible threat of Mora was driving him crazy, and the possibility that maybe even the one closest to him was secretly against him…? It ruined his mood and the possibility bothered him. He had no reason to suspect Ypsilon, but his guard was down around them, and he didn’t like it. Or at least… he didn’t like it at all times.

His eyes fell upon the cloaked figure, whom he stared at for a while, his mask facing forwards as his eyes went to side-eye the bizarre person. However, before he could take a more detailed observation, Ypsilon was quickly to his side, the pep in their voice immediately redirecting his focus to them.

“I got some good food to last us the rest of the journey to my place. We should be there by nightfall! Even earlier if the weather’s good and we keep a quick pace.” they purred out, cheerily. “And if you want we can sit down for breakfast and-”

The hooded figure blinked at him from behind the hood. Miraak felt his throat tighten. “No, we’ll eat on the way, and keep up the pace.” he murmured, his hand going for Ypsilon’s, lacing their fingers with his.

“Oh!” the blush in their voice was clear, and he suddenly felt bad for utilizing affection as a way to possibly make the guard of whomever this hooded figure was drop a bit. “Ok, let’s head on out then!” Ypsilon said as they pulled the drawstrings of their bag tighter, settling it on their back.

The cheer in their voice pulled at his heartstrings, and Ypsilon takes the lead, guiding the two out the front door of the inn. Miraak lets out a small sigh the moment they start to head down the road, continuing along the path. Part of him felt bad, but another was glad they were happy with his sign of affection. Shaking the guilt off, his mind drifted back to the hooded figure. 

He had narrowly avoided giving the figure alarm, he hadn’t looked in the direction of the figure directly, and had tried his best to avoid seeming too skittish upon leaving. He felt his rouse worked, and relief flooded him. Maybe it was nothing, he was being nervous as he had been lately.

He had sworn that olive, dual-pupiled eyes stared back at him.  More than two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely didn't want to write any Dovahzul for this, as their conversation is too complex for me to write. I like to think of it as a very back and forth "Talos, you're back, etc, etc." and then Miraak: "Am not Talos, but yeah, tell me about this old thing.", and then "Talos! It's you!". So Miraak is reasonably annoyed and stressed.


End file.
